(90): Bizarre Aftermath: My Not-Quite Alien Abduction Experience
I have written about my horrific experience of rape and home invasion, but there is a bizarre postscript that I never expected at the time. Shortly after the attack of 1990, I returned to stay with my grandmother in Florida, sleeping in her guest bedroom as I had done off and on for many years. It was familiar and comforting, and yet — — and… YET —
Every night, in the darkness, I could make out the outlines of several looming figures, grey aliens, approaching me or standing back and watching me, sometimes holding instruments of some sort. They were dream-apparitions of my conscious mind, outlines of light and shadow, perhaps projections of my mind in the darkness. Did I mention that my mother had given me a copy of Whitley Strieber’s Communion to read around this time? Mom is great, kind of dotty and airheaded and weird; in short, she is an older version of me. She always had bookcases full of popular occult books and a Ouija board and a couple different decks of Tarot cards from the 1960’s, really cool stuff. But after I read Strieber’s book, I couldn’t get the image of those Greys out of my head.
The infusion of a breathless, emotional account of Strieber’s abduction experiences wormed their way into my ravaged, stressed-out, traumatized brain and lodged in my waking dreams. As a result, I slept with alien abduction anxiety for a week or so. Now, it might seem that I am saying that alien abduction experiences are not real, but that’s not what I’m saying. What I am saying is that the mind under a post-traumatic stress is liable to magnify the import of any information it takes in, and the fact that I had read Strieber’s account, which recounted traumatic and invasive experiences he had while in his own home, seemingly safe, really gave the account a parallel to mine that was rather uncomfortable. I can’t really blame my mother for giving me the book to read. She just thought it would be something I would enjoy reading. But the side effects! — !!!
I do believe that there are things beyond our current human understanding and that the mind itself holds power and capability of which we are unaware. A second occurrence during this immediate post-traumatic time was an experience of potential telepathy. I was asleep in the morning, and my father’s voice spoke in my head, saying my name. It was so loud that I thought he was next to my bed talking to me. I immediately rolled out of bed in alarm, only to realize I was alone. I walked out of my grandmother’s house, only to find that my father was maybe 2 minutes away from pulling out of the driveway to go to work. (The driveway was on the opposite side of the house to the bedroom). I barely caught him and was able to greet him because of this. Would you call this telepathy? Perhaps it was the projection on my father’s part that he wished he had been able to see me before he left, channeled to my mind, opened by virtue of being in a sort of post-traumatic state of shock and a relaxed state of sleep?
There are many aspects of the human brain’s function that are opaque to our understanding. We cannot test some of them scientifically, because they are so intermittent and tied to emotion and “state of mind” that many otherwise rigorous thinkers believe that the person experiencing the effect is in error or exaggerating due to emotional stress. That is an easy generalization to make and is probably often correct. But it would be intellectually lazy to suggest all unexplained extra-sensory perception accounts are the result of mistakes, lies or exaggerations (let’s also add “an unbalanced mind.” That’s a good one). I would put forward the idea that being in a heightened emotional, meditative or concentrative state could open a new palette of abilities beyond the ones that are obvious and accepted by everyone. The real problem is how would one set up an experimental protocol for such a thing? I don’t suggest getting to that state by the method I did. It isn’t worth it.